Choices Made At Last
by KillTenchi
Summary: I promise that, if you read this, you WILL (probably) have strong feelings afterwards...so READ IT and....review? :)


Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, or any characters contained therein.  
  
Author's note: Okay...I very rarely read Buffy: TVS fanfics, so I have no idea how many times this has been done...nor do I care. This was supposed to be funny when it started out (like all of my other fanfics are) but, well, it's not. I wrote this in about ten minutes so there's been no revision of any kind and, once again, I don't care. Um...let's see if that's all....oops...no....one more thing, I don't really wish this scenario would go down...i just wish the whole B/S thing was resolved one way or another because being in limbo sucks. Also, I'm not normally this bitchy...not outwardly anyway....I am just really annoyed right now so don't take this author's note personally or anything...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She's had about all she can stand, and she just can't stand anymore. This is it. After tonight there will be no going back. In her mind she says a quick prayer that her friends will forgive her, although they've forgiven her worse things than this.   
  
With a sigh, Buffy takes a moment as she walks down the darkened streets of Sunnydale to allow her mind to also walk down memory lane. Yes, her friends had been mad about ANGEL in the past...but they'd come to accept it over time, and now it seemed like all of the angry words and the angrier thoughts had never happened. Surely it would be that way now, with this new problem. She knows that her friends must like Spike a little bit, or they would never contend with him hanging around at all. How could they begrudge her a little happiness after all of the hell (and heaven) that she'd been through? If they were really her friends they would realize that this is just something she HAS to do, and that, when your life is as miserable and complicated as the Slayer's is, you have to snatch scraps of happiness whenever and wherever you can.  
  
She thinks Dawn might be the angriest when she finds out. Yes, Dawn will be angry, she's certain of it. But her sister is young, and the young are always quick to judge and even quicker to hurl accusations. Dawn will find forgiveness someday. Xander and Giles will even be happy for Buffy after this dreadful night is over and everything is revealed. They'll probably look concerned for her, but in the end she knows that at least Giles will admit that it's for the best. And Xander, well she KNOWS he'll be supportive. This is the kind of thing that she and Xander always agreed on in the past. And this time it's different than what happened with Angel. This time it's a choice, not something that is out of her hands.   
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Buffy stares hard at the black doorway before ducking and entering into the murky shadows of Spike's crypt. Walking too stealthily for even an ancient vampire to hear her she becomes one with the darkness as she creeps into the blonde one's abode. Broken wine bottles litter the corner, the floor is covered with layers of dusty debris, and the television stands like a night watchman over what appears to be the sleeping form of Spike, slumped over in a chair with a red-rimmed mug dangling precariously from his fingers.   
  
  
Exerting every ounce of self control she can muster, so as not to ruin the whole thing by waking him up before she is ready and prepared to see him, Buffy sneaks closer to get a better inspection of the passed out form.   
  
  
In his sleep he looks like a beautiful corpse. Dead, but with a face looking very alive. Preserved like a snap shot of health forever, he is quite lovely. She gazes at him with eyes like crystal spheres that both shimmer and seem to move constantly in the dim light. Her eyes travel to the patch of white, caught between two mountains of dark fabric, that is his exposed chest. She knows that in there somewhere that marble skin holds a heart captive and if she can just set it free than all the hurt and the pain and the trouble that this...man...has caused her will have all been meaningless. It would be over. And Buffy knows she has it within her to fix everything. She's been such a fool for so long, and no matter what anyone has said to her she's turned a deaf ear, but she is listening now. Things are going to be different from this moment on.   
  
  
Buffy begins to feel the shroud of sadness that has suffocated her since escaping her coffin lift for a moment. Through the fog of her indifference she looks at the only thing that sheds enough light to break through her misery. What she feels for Spike is like a spark flashing in the barren wasteland of her inescapable existence. It's up to her to choose to fan the fire. She will make his heart hers.  
  
  
So it is with a smile on her face that she chooses to end the madness that has been her life recently. All of the indecision dissolves in her eyes which have become watery graves for her grief. She reaches in her bag for a moment and, before she can change her mind, she plunges a stake deep into the porcelain wall of Spike's chest. His eyes open wide in shock as his back arches off the couch in agony. In the split second left before vaporizing he has enough consciousness left to look at Buffy in amazement and confusion, his blue eyes going clear with realization.  
  
In a breath's time he is gone the way of so many before him, just another layer of dust for the Slayer to wade through on her way out the door. She turns before leaving to peer back into the dismal, vampiric habitat.  
  
  
Sounding for the first time like the old Buffy, she quips,"GOD, I can't believe I had forgotten how much I HATE you...what was WRONG with me?"  
  
  
She turns her back and faces the outside world. The first rays of sunrise are peeking over the horizon like a child from under covers who is afraid of the dark. Buffy isn't afraid though, not anymore. She fights monsters, and, in so doing, she is a little bit monster herself. She has nothing to fear anymore from the night, her confusion,too, is dust in the winds of morning. With what looks like the makings of a genuine smile, she feels the inklings of a girlish kind of glee creep to the edges of her mouth. She steps onto the grass of the cemetery and heads in the direction of home. 


End file.
